


what's left of my right mind

by evewithanapple



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Office Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:24:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/pseuds/evewithanapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let the record show: Alex did not actually plan on having sex with Amalia in the PNWS breakroom.</p><p>And even if she <i>had</i>, Strand had certainly never been part of the plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what's left of my right mind

**Author's Note:**

> Set mid-season one. Let's just assume for porn purposes that Amalia stopped in at the PNWS offices at some point.
> 
> Also, shoutout to the member of the TBTP tumblr crew (I can't remember who, sorry!) who came up with Amalia calling Alex "Sasha."

Let the record show: Alex did not actually plan on having sex with Amalia in the PNWS breakroom.

Sure, it's not like the idea never crossed her mind- when Amalia's rubbing her foot up and down Alex's calf in the recording studio, when they're in bed together on a lazy Sunday morning and Amalia says "what  _if_  . . ." when it's midnight on Friday and they're both five margaritas deep into intoxication. But all that was just joking- flirting in that way Amalia loves to do, where she skirts right up against the edge of danger and waits to see if Alex will jump over the line with her. They were never actually going to do it. For one thing, they're both professionals who understand the standards required of them in the workplace. For another, even though their relationship (like Amalia's relationship with Nic) is casual, that doesn't mean it's a good idea to bring it into the space that Alex shares _with_  Nic on a daily basis. Yes, they're all mature adults, but there's such a thing as tact. Besides, both Alex and Amalia have fully functioning apartments with well-furnished bedrooms (and couches, and sometimes kitchen tables that can stand in in a pinch) so why bother? They can always have sex with the blinds open, if they're angling to get caught.

It's just. Well.

It's late Wednesday night- or possibly Thursday morning, Alex isn't sure- and she's struggling to keep her eyes open. She's been having trouble sleeping lately, but that's not why she's at work- they've gotten a backlog of e-mails from reporters interested in covering the black tapes, and so it's been Alex's job to go through all of the ones that the interns forwarded on to her, plus the newspapers and websites wanting to interview her or Strand (mostly Strand) personally and the new influx of people claiming they have a black tape of their own. It's why Strand is sitting in the office scowling at his laptop. Nic begged off and went home with a head cold hours ago, and the interns have all packed up and left- so it's just Alex, Strand, and Amalia (who keeps night owl hours) left in the building.

Amalia is sitting at the table, stirring cream into her coffee with a swizzle stick. It's how she's taken her coffee for as long as Alex has known her- two cream packets, no milk or sugar. Alex used to be fond of coffee that was heavily diluted with milk, but these days she's learned to appreciate the joys of black coffee. It helps her get up in the morning, which is becoming an increasingly difficult task. Even now, she keeps having to lift a hand to cover her mouth as she yawns, hoping nobody notices. But-

-no such luck. "You seem tired, Sasha," Amalia says from her position at the table. She lifts the stick out of her coffee mug shakes it off, and lays it aside on a napkin. "You need to take a vacation. Relax. Enjoy yourself."

"I'm fine," Alex says with a shake of her head, but another yawn starts to rise in her throat, cutting off the end of her sentence. She avoids Amalia's eye, but knows that the other woman is smirking knowingly. " _Fine_ ," she repeats, a little defensively. "It's been a long day, that's all."

"All the more reason for you to take time off," Amalia stands up and walks over to where Alex is standing at the counter, sliding both arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck. "Or at least let yourself relax for a few minutes. Surely you can spare that?"

Alex hums, leaning into Amalia's touch. It  _does_  feel good to take her mind off things, and Amalia's always good for that. She's some kind of fiendish genius at figuring out what makes Alex tick, wiping her mind clean with the barest brush of her fingers. Alex lets Amalia take on more of her weight as she leans into the other woman's touch, humming again as Amalia brings her hands up to cup Alex's breasts and flick at her nipples through her t-shirt.

"Amalia," Alex says, only half-protesting. "The door's open-"

"Who's here to see us?" Amalia asks, giving Alex's breast a gentle squeeze. Alex knows there's something wrong with that logic, but between the fog of fatigue and Amalia's hands skimming the strip of bare skin between her jeans and her shirt, she can't pinpoint it. Besides, Amalia's slid a hand inside Alex's shirt now, moving upwards and sliding her bra straps off her shoulders so that Alex's breasts are unencumbered by the extra fabric. She flicks at Alex's nipples again, and Alex's humming rises to a moan. "Amalia-"

"It's all right, Sasha." Amalia takes her hands away long enough to get Alex turned around, so that her back is to the countertop and she and Amalia are face-to-face. Amalia nuzzles her cheek, brushing their noses together. "Let me take care of you."

And, well, Alex is having a hard time arguing with that. 

Amalia kisses her, pushing her tongue into Alex's open mouth, and Alex melts against her. She's so good, so soft and yet angular, pressure in all the best places and yielding where Alex most needs it. She lets herself lean into Amalia, the other woman taking on her weight, and gasps when Amalia strokes her through the thick fabric of her jeans, just where the inseam digs against her clit. It wakes up a part of her she's been neglecting for weeks- not a lot of time for sex when there's e-mails to answer- and she feels Amalia smirk against her mouth as she whines. "More, more  _please_ -"

"Shhhh," Amalia kisses her again and pops the button on her jeans, maneuvering the zipper down and pressing her fingers against Alex through her underwear. She's already wet just from this tiny bit of stimulation, and she can feel Amalia's surprise and delight in the way her mouth is moving. She keeps on stroking Alex through her underwear until Alex's legs are shaking and she's pressed to Amalia's mouth still begging for more. The drag of damp cotton against her skin and the nimble movement of Amalia's fingers are undoing her; she's going to reach orgasm right here in the break room, still in her jeans and underwear, and there's not a thing she can do about it. Nothing she  _wants_  to do about it.

She feels Amalia stutter to a stop- it's sudden and it's brief, but it's enough of a surprise that she pulls her mouth free of Amalia's and looks around. What she sees makes her stomach drop: Dr. Strand is standing in the doorway, mouth gaping open, right hand clenched around a coffee mug. Some distant part of her wonders how long he's been standing there, while a much more immediate part is freaking out because  _oh my god_ , he's standing there staring at her while she twists and moans and Amalia's hand is down her pants and her bra strap is dangling out of her sleeve. She is never going to be able to look him in the eye again. Oh god.

Amalia, on the other hand, doesn't seem nearly as perturbed at the situation calls for. "Dr. Strand," she says, as casual and pleasant as if they'd just bumped into each other in the line at Starbucks. "I thought you were busy with your e-mails."

"I was getting coffee," he says faintly, shuffling backwards. "I should- I'm terribly sorry, I'll-"

"Dr. Strand," Amalia says again. "Richard." Her gaze dips. "I was saying to Alex, someone ought to be looking after her. Don't you think?"

What is she  _doing_? Alex wants to squirm away (because Amalia's hand is  _still in her pants_ ) but there's nowhere, really, for her to go. And Amalia is still chatting casually away, like nothing about this situation is odd or awkward in the slightest. "I know you care about her too." She looks Strand up and down like he's a piece of fruit she's considering whether or not to bite into. "Would you like to join?"

Alex yelps. Strand makes a choking noise low in his throat, like he's got something lodged in his trachea. Amalia still seems utterly unruffled- in fact, she's started stroking Alex again, which is making it extremely difficult for Alex to think straight. "You don't have to," she says. "But I think it's a good idea. You seem as though you need to be taken care of as well." There's the slightest drop in her voice before she says "taken care of" that turns Alex into jelly, and she has to reach back and grab the counter for support. Strand is still staring, his Adam's apple bobbing frantically up and down. Amalia cocks her head to the side. "For her sake too," she says. "You do want to take care of her, don't you? And I know  _she_  wants you to." 

Strand's eyes flick to Alex, and she wishes she could do or say something to diffuse this whole situation, but it's all she can do to keep from coming on the spot. Heat is washing over her in waves, and Amalia still hasn't even really touched her, and now she's imaging Strand's hands on her as well and  _oh god_.

"Please," she croaks. It's all she can say. "Please, Dr. Strand- Richard-"

Amalia uses her free hand to pull Alex away from the edge of the counter just as something in Dr. Strand cracks- she can see it in his face- and he crosses the room, coming up behind her and hooking his arm under her breasts, holding her upright. One of his hands is burning hot on her bare skin, and she fumbles to guide it up to touch her breast. He does so with a groan, and she lets her head fall back against his chest as Amalia finally pulls her panties aside and slides a finger inside her. Strand is pressing sharp, open-mouthed kisses against her neck while he strokes and squeezes her breasts and Amalia is crooking one finger inside Alex as she adds another and Alex comes with a gasp, trying to gulp down air as she melts between Strand and Amalia, both of them holding her safely upright. She turns her head against Strand's chest, feeling his heart thudding against her cheek. "Dr. Strand," she murmurs again. "I should- you can-"

"Shhh," Amalia says as she withdraws her hands and spins Alex around again. Now she's face-to-face with Strand and Amalia's at her back. She can feel Strand's erection pressing against her thigh as Amalia moves around to the side so that she's within arms' reach of both of them. She takes Strand's hand and guides it between her legs as Alex undoes his belt and the button of his trousers, reaching inside and wrapping a hand around his cock. Her head is swimming too much to really see what he's doing with Amalia, but she can guess from the noises the other woman is making that he's making good use of his hands. He's hard and leaking in her grip, and he presses their foreheads together as Alex strokes him, rubbing precome across the surface of his cock with her thumb. Amalia brings an arm up around Alex's back, and Alex twists away from Strand momentarily to kiss Amalia as the other woman breathes her in hungrily. Strand is quiet, but she can track the rhythms of his breathing and knows he's close so she squeezes him a bit tighter, strokes a bit more forcefully, and he shudders as he comes into her hand. Beside her, Amalia's hips are rocking up and down, and she follows Strand a few moments later with a cry that Alex swallows with a kiss. 

They're all silent after that, save for the heavy breathing punctuating the smell of sweat and sex in the room. Alex pulls her hand free and wipes it off on her jeans- she'll throw them in the laundry when she gets home, it doesn't matter- and lets Amalia lean her head on her shoulder while Strand leans back against the counter, one hand still gripping Alex's hip.

"It was a good idea," Amalia murmurs into Alex's neck, "wasn't it?" It's such an incongruous statement that Alex can't help but huff a laugh, although there's nothing really funny about it. She feels better than she has in weeks, boneless and relaxed and- yeah, she thinks, it was a good idea. On her end, anyway.

She looks at Strand. "Are you okay?"

He makes a noise that might be "yes," though he still looks slightly dazed. Alex stands on her toes, dislodging Amalia (who makes a slight noise of protest) and kisses his forehead. He leans into the gesture, which calms her remaining fears- whatever tomorrow's conversations may bring, at least he's not fleeing the sight of her. "I'm tired," she murmurs. "You probably are too."

"I know I am," Amalia says with a yawn. Strand nods. "I- yes, I am. Yes."

Alex curls closer into both her lovers (lovers? Can she call them that? Never mind; that's another conversation for tomorrow.) "Then I suggest," she says, "that we all call it a night. My apartment's a few blocks away- it's small, but it should fit three people for a night. What do you say?"

Amalia's nodding before Alex even finishes speaking. Strand hesitates a fraction of a moment longer, then nods as well. "That sounds like a good idea," he says.

Alex sighs happily, making sure to hold on to both Strand's and Amalia's hands as she steps away from the counter. "Come on, then," she says. "Let's go home."


End file.
